EXO is up for album of the year in China and they’re all crowded into a single row of seats in the theater where the awards are being presented. The presenter talks for what seems like forever, because Sehun can’t understand anything she’s saying, and the starchy white collar of his shirt itches like crazy, and the room is heated a bit too much to accommodate the girls that decided to show up in lingerie and body paint, and Luhan’s hand keeps creeping over the armrest and into Sehun’s lap.

The award ceremony goes on and on, and Sehun’s mind wanders from choreography to what star fruit tastes like and back again. Luhan adjusts his seat and his arm brushes Sehun’s, pressed black fabric sliding against pressed black fabric. Sehun wishes for the hundredth time that he speaks Chinese when the entire room erupts in laughter at some joke he can’t understand. Instead he glances over at Luhan, whose whole face is scrunched with laughter as he claps and stamps. Sehun wants to ask what the joke was but in the next instant EXO is called up to receive their award.

The lights are strong on his face and while Kris is talking Luhan’s hand creeps into his, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt. Sehun looks over but Luhan only grins at him, looking back at Kris. Sehun sighs and contents himself with smiling and nodding at the crowd because he still can’t understand what’s going on. He idly wonders if he’s the only one who’s developing pit stains and whose hair is in danger of falling out of its hairspray, and thinks about asking Luhan, but then decides against it because Luhan is too perfect to get sweaty.

Then Luhan steps up to the microphone to say something to the crowd, and the presenter, a pretty little thing with her entire back exposed to the world, says something, the corners of her eyes crinkling. Luhan laughs and replies, his voice coy and his eyes trained on the girl. Sehun’s eyes narrow and he rubs the section of sleeve Luhan was tugging on earlier. He really needs to learn Chinese.